Deep in his Front were funk his glowing Eyes, That yet methinks I fee him with Surprize. Reach out your Hand, I drop with clammy Sweat, And lay it to my Heart, and feel it beat.
Now fie for Shame, quoth fhe, by Heav'n above, Thou haft for ever loft thy Lady's Love; No Woman can endure a Recreant Knight, He must be bold by Day, and free by Night: Our Sex defires a Husband or a Friend, Who can our Honour and his own defend Wife, Hardy, Secret, lib'ral of his Purfe: A Fool is naufeous, but a Coward worse: No bragging Coxcomb, yet no baffled Knight. How dar't thou talk of Love, and dar'ft not Fight? How dar'ft thou tell thy Dame thou art afer'd, Haft thou no manly Heart, and hast a Beard? If ought from fearful Dreams may be divin'd, They fignifie a Cock of Dunghill-kind. All Dreams, as in old Galen I have read, Are from Repletion and Complexion bred: From rifing Fumes of indigefted Food,
And noxious Humours that infect the Blood:
And fure, my Lord, if I can read aright,
These foolish Fancies you have had to Night;
Are certain Symptoms (in the canting Stile)
Of boiling Choler, and abounding Bile:
This yellow Gaul that in your Stomach floats,
Ingenders all these visionary Thoughts.
When Choler overflows, then Dreams are bred
Of Flames and all the Family of Red;
Red Dragons, and red Beasts in Sleep we view;
For Humours are diftinguish'd by their Hue.
From hence we dream of Wars and Warlike Things,
And Wafps and Hornets with their double Wings.
Choler aduft congeals our Blood with Fear;
Then black Bulls tofs us, and black Devils tear.
In fanguine airy Dreams aloft we bound,
With Rhumes opprefs'd we fink in Rivers drown'd.
More I could fay, but thus conclude my Theme,
The dominating Humour makes the Dream.
Cato was in his time accounted Wife,
And he condemns them all for empty Lies.
Take my Advice, and when we fly to Ground
With Laxatives preferve your Body found,
And purge the peccant Humours that abound.
I fhould be loath to lay you on a Bier;
And though there lives no 'Pothecary near,
I dare for once prefcribe for your Disease,
And fave long Bills, and a damn'd Doctor's Fees,
Two Soveraign Herbs, which I by Practice know,
And both at Hand, (for in our Yard they grow ;)
On peril of my Soul fhall rid you wholly
Of yellow Choler, and of Melancholy:
You must both Purge, and Vomit; but obey,
And for the love of Heav'n make no delay.
Since hot and dry in your Complexion join,
Beware the Sun when in a vernal Sign;
For when he mounts exalted in the Ram,
If then he finds your Body in a Flame,
Replete with Choler, I dare lay a Groat,
A Tertian Ague is at least your Lot.
Perhaps a Fever (which the Gods forefend)
May bring your Youth to fome untimely end.
And therefore, Sir, as you defire to live,
A Day or two before your Laxative,
Take just three Worms, nor over nor above,
Because the Gods unequal Numbers love.
These Digeftives prepare you for your Purge,
Of Fumetery, Centaury, and Spurge,
And of Ground-Ivy add a Leaf, or two,
All which within our Yard or Garden grow.
Eat these, and be, my Lord, of better Cheer
Your Father's Son was never born to fear.
Madam, quoth he, Grammercy for your Care,
But Cato, whom you quoted, you may spare:
'Tis true, a wife and worthy Man he seems,
And (as you fay) gave no Belief to Dreams;
But other Men of more Authority,
And, by th'Immortal Pow'rs, as wife as He,
Maintain, with founderSenfe, that Dreams forbode;
For Homer plainly fays they come from God.
Nor Cato faid it: But fome modern Fool,
Impos'd in Cato's Name on Boys at School.
Believe me, Madam, Morning Dreams foreshow
Th' Events of Things, and future Weal or Woe:
Some Truths are not by Reason to be try'd,
But we have fure Experience for our Guide.
An ancient Author, equal with the best,
Relates this Tale of Dreams among the rest.
Two Friends, or Brothers, with devout Intent,
On fome far Pilgrimage together went.
It happen'd fo that when the Sun was down,
They juft arriv'd by twilight at a Town;
That Day had been the baiting of a Bull,
'Twas at a Feaft, and ev'ry Inn fo full,
That no void Room in Chamber, or on Ground,
And but one forry Bed was to be found:
And that fo little it would hold but one,
Though till this Hour they never lay alone.
So were they forc'd to part; one stay'd behind,
His Fellow fought what Lodging he could find:
At laft he found a Stall where Oxen stood,
And that he rather chose than lie abroad.
'Twas in a farther Yard without a Door,
But for his Eafe, well litter'd was the Floor.
His Fellow, who the narrow Bed had kept, Was weary, and without a Rocker flept: Supine he fnor'd; but in the dead of Night, He dreamt his Friend appear'd before his Sight, Who, with a ghaftly Look and doleful Cry, Said Help me Brother, or this Night I die:
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